Louder than the screams you hear
by gottaLoveLOVE
Summary: "To them it was so obvious that coup de foudre could only mean the objective, cold and violent path. Well, Lydia was cold and objective herself but her brain kept presenting the untiring question: how do you defeat darkness with darkness? Pain with pain? Strife and strife. A never-ending chaos." In which Lydia finds out how to save Stiles
1. Mistletoe

**Hi guys. So this is just one idea I had about how Stiles could be saved, how it can be related to the theory that he sent Lydia a message when he framed the Nemeton drawing for her and a lot of other theories.**

**This fic is set after 3x23 even though I write it before 3x22**

**On the story Lydia had met the nogitsune already, which only happened on 3x22 (and truly, it will only happen on 3x23).**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or any of its characters!**_  
_

_Focus! _She could hear Peter screaming as she realized, as she remembered.

"Why didn't you mention this sooner?" Lydia asked, her voice and hands and everything shaking. Nevertheless, she could hear it now, louder than everything she's ever heard as a banshee or a human, it was so clear, so obvious. It had always been there for her to notice, but Peter was right, she would never focus. If she had just focused, she could have, she would have-

"What do you mean?" Scott questioned exasperated, because he said so many things in such a short time but none of them made sense or seemed important. None of them were new to anyone – or so he thought. Kira's and Allison's were the same and Lydia felt like screaming if she only could, cause there was a new hole inside her that made and destroyed her. It was always there, it had always been there. She would cry if she was the type of girl who cried in front of people, if she was the type of girl who could cry while feeling so anxious and guilty and frustrated with the world.

Focus, Lydia. You never focus, you never _listen_.

"It's not bolt of lightning ", was all she could muster and great now everyone could see she was shaking. Aiden looked at her as he always did when he thought she was going insane and he had no idea how to manage her.

"Lydia, what are you talking about?" Allison asked calmly, since she was probably the only one besides Scott who had patience with her while the others would just rather ignore her musings.

"It's not bolt of lightning!" she yelled this time realizing she had no time for this because everything was so blinding clear that she had to run. There was nothing else to do or say or explain, she turned around and felt the adrenaline rise in every inch of her tired body.

"Lydia!" Scott shouts out and he outruns her, grabbing her arm before she can leave the room. He will not let her leave without an explanation and while she would usually appreciate his thoughtfulness, she can't this time; not when she knows what needs to be known, not when she's heard what needs to be heard, not when she gets the last message Stiles has left anyone and not when she's needed.

"It's love at first sight." She says only the words that are necessary and looks into Scott's eyes wishing with every fiber of her being that he will understand the words unspoken.

He opens his mouth as if her wishes were heard but he doesn't let go of her arm just yet. "Lydia, we don't know for sure; we… I can't let you risk it, I can't let you risk your life over a suspicion", he doesn't mind whispering as if they were talking about a secret because there is no time and too many supernatural entities that would hear them even so.

"I know" she says without any trace of doubt, Scott inadvertently releases her arm and she just runs again.

Scott runs after her one more time, already yelling he is taking her wherever she needs to go so everyone could hear and follow them, follow her.

-/-

Scott wishes he could ask her as he drives her to wherever his best friend is at, but he can tell her eyes say nothing but _hurry already _and he'll never get his answer unless it _works. _He doesn't have much time to wonder as he always finds himself lost in that single word: works. Cause it was all that mattered and it was all that would matter for a long time. If the impossible situation that became his life has taught him something It was that there was no use in knowing something if that something was useless.

And it wouldn't, it couldn't, become useless whatever it was that Lydia knew and that he wanted to know too.

Lydia looks ahead even when Scott doesn't, she needs to hear everything again and again and once more until she memorized it and made sure she never forgot it again; the sound never stopped ever since it began and she didn't want it to.

It was Stiles and her. Talking. She could hear his voice as young and innocent as hers, soon to be too old, soon to be too uninnocent- just like hers. She marvels on how nothing is random and fate exists, tethers weren't things to take lightly; they were made of relationships and fortune, the equal amount of conscientious acts and unconscientious Life, as it chooses how and when it wants people to be- without a warning or a care.

Her eyes must be the vision of determination, not even Scott asks her what she is going to do when she jumps off his recently stopped car and starts running after _him_.

Lydia doesn't need to run much because the fox sure finds her, all cocky and ahead of anyone's game like it was. Like it thought it was.

She realizes she isn't afraid anymore, not like she was when she first saw Stiles being anyone but Stiles. She's fearless and tough, she knows he is unafraid too and that's why it will work. When she smiles at the vision of the boy who was taken away, but the one who took him doesn't smirk defiantly back, she knows it will work. If there was one thing pure void wouldn't understand it was this, if there was one thing darkness itself wouldn't plan on defeating it was this, if there was one thing pain, strife and chaos didn't think could outfox them, it was this.

"Well?" he said, the curiosity of the fox overpowering his need to protect himself and his plans for a moment. The little red-haired banshee came out of nowhere after being hallucinated and scarred away. The little red-haired banshee who walked and breathed like she was ready to ruin everything for him, but she was too small and fragile; too human to do anything but delay his actions – he could kill her, he should kill her right that second. But her eyes, her eyes had chaos in them; that was enough. Enough to grant her one moment.

However, there was no moment to grant, the banshee stood silent before him. Showing him nothing but nerve.

The nogitsune walked softly and swiftly towards her, filled with suspicion and curiosity. "Are you trying to save him again? Don't you know it's useless by now?"

His words were meant to scare and end all hope like they did once, twice, thrice before. But all she can think about is how the right words and the right feelings, the right moments and the right history can change everything.

No, his words didn't frighten her, not this time. This time his words were like the buzzing of his beloved flies that belong to places lower than the ground. Nothing was louder than the sound playing in her head repeatedly ever since Scott mentioned the three most beautiful words the French could mutter. _Coup de Foudre._

_Coup de foudre._

She doesn't know why Scott hadn't mentioned it earlier, she doesn't know why Kira's mom would tell them about someone's last words and why she would think of bolts of lightning and how they may be their answer to defeat a nogitsune; she contemplates how their friends didn't doubt that assumption. To them it was so obvious that _coup de foudre_ could only mean the objective, cold and violent path. Well, Lydia was cold and objective herself but her brain kept presenting the untiring question: how do you defeat darkness with darkness? Pain with pain? Strife and strife. A never-ending chaos.

But love knows no pain, no strife, no chaos.

She could tell the kitsune was getting tired of her little game and that awareness gave her both peace and alarm. It would all be over soon, for better or worse.

He was without action, irritated for not being able to comprehend the situation, which was completely inexplicable and unforeseen to him. "I guess I'll just have to make you scream, banshee", he declared clinically, not threatening her like before, or like one would expect. Not threatening her any more than trying to find an answer to that one riddle.

He pushed her. It took him three seconds to notice something was tactically out-of-place. He couldn't shove her. He couldn't push her against any walls so he could put his hand around her neck to suffocate her after forcing the answer out of her mouth. He pushed and pushed her shoulders, but the girl held her ground like he was nothing but a breeze. He looked at his own hands wondering if they were paper, his strength terribly diminished turning him as fragile as her.

His eyes left his skinny hands and stared at her. Would it change anything if he asked her what she had done, would she answer him? She looked back at him and the flicker in her eyes synchronized with the wave of brittleness that coursed his body. Then he decided he'd take her eyes off if that was what it took to make it stop.

He lifted his hand so he could reach her face but she easily slapped it away. He couldn't control or use his strength anymore, or lack of it. He didn't know his own limits anymore, how much power would take to lift an arm or kill a red-haired nightmare. He wasn't helplessly weak, he just wasn't…. he just _was_…

Human. Sordidly, dreadfully.

That realization made him take three steps back, Lydia's delight and fulfillment knew no restrictions anymore. She wasn't crazy and never had been, neither had Stiles. He never would or could; he was always the one who figured things out just as she told him; and she should never doubt herself, as he told her. In that moment, Lydia allowed herself to get distracted for one second as she marveled if that's how tethers work and if that's how they always would.

His eyes watched her enraged and startled but her courage banged against her ribcage, growing wild just like her hope, just like her need for action; there was one thing left to do and it would take all the determination she could find. Sounds of steps behind her made her heart beat faster, they made her rush; Her friends were her only liability. One misplaced look or unfortunate word or inappropriate emotion could put her resolve and success in danger.

The nogitsune was about to hit her or run towards her friends, she couldn't tell; either way, she grabbed his wrists before he could make his next move. The element of surprise gave her two good seconds of an actionless opponent; she grabbed something green from her pocket and shoved it into the mouth he only then realized was open.

"Lydia" she heard Allison gasp, but didn't pay much attention. All she could focus on was his eyes, how they were widening and watering. He didn't only feel weak, he was rendered defenseless before her. He put his hands around his throat, choking. He wore an expression of hatred; he couldn't comprehend what was overpowering him. Lydia felt terrified and anxious, watching a face she knew so well suffering; worrying if that's all she'd have to do, if that was all that it took for her and Stiles' plan to work.

"What is- what –", he started asking after coughing. He didn't have enough air to finish the sentence, but he had air. Her blood froze; she wasn't supposed to do anything else, she wished and hoped she wouldn't have to do nothing else. Her mind went back to all the tethers and how they operated. She had killed him once and nothing is a coincidence.

She felt herself hyperventilate and tremble, her mind beginning to question herself but her friends were heading their way and there was no time left for mistakes or fear. She had to trust herself. As the nogitsune coughed and coughed and coughed, gasping for air, holding his neck as if it would help taking off the thing she flung into his throat, she gripped his neck.

She was quick and tentatively unyielding, grabbing his neck with both hands so she could suffocate the fox herself. She remembered how coughing was a good sign when a person choked, let alone speaking. Her grip was tight and sweaty, determined and terrified like her. The weight of her action haunting her but it wasn't him, it wasn't him.

"It's mistletoe", she finally answered, her voice breaking but also infuriated, he fought with everything he had to break free of her hold but it was helpless. She seemed stronger than him, even though she was sure Stiles was stronger than she was. She couldn't think about that, though. She couldn't even compute what her friends were saying and how some of them were trying to stop her, her strength and resolve felt unhuman.

All she could think about was the sound of blood pumping, it sounded like drums on a tense but steady rhythm; then the sound of the day she first met Stiles, which still hadn't stopped since Scott mentioned _Coup de foude. _That gave her strength, that gave purpose and meaning to the violence she was making. She kept focusing on that sound because she couldn't focus on the tears that were clouding her eyes and witnessing an assassination.

The sound of blood was her own heart beating, she realized; maybe it was his. He grabbed her wrists trying to take her hands off him with every ounce of power he had left. _Coup de foudre, _she thought to herself. His eyes were bulging out of his head and his mouth was open, trying to scream in fury. _Coup de foudre, _her brain repeated. He fell on his knees and waved his arms aggressively, trying to grab her in trying to make her stop; she pressed his throat harder. _Coup de foudre.. _She cried harder and he grabbed her arms trying to hurt her one last time. She gritted her teeth and tightened her jaw as if it would make her stronger, as if it would make him give up faster. She had an abrupt impulse to scream, her breathing got rapid and it urged her to let it out. Her scream was so loud and piercing that the whole neighborhood would have nightmares about it. The nogitsune shut his eyes and cringed, still that woman wouldn't stop asphyxiating him in one way or the other.

His hold on her loosened and his eyes rolled to the back of his head; as his body laid on the floor, Lydia took a deep breath and blinked twice, trying to take in what she had done. But there wasn't much time for that either.

Minutes, she had minutes.

Someone else was grabbing her shoulder, she noticed; they have been screaming at her and pulling her for a while but she couldn't hear or feel anything before.

"What are you doing?!" Allison's voice was the only one she was able to make out, but Allison didn't get an answer.

They watched their strawberry blond friend kneel beside the guy she just killed. She was quivering and her mind suddenly started describing to her all the things one should do with an unconscious choking victim as if every detail she missed would cost her Stiles; _it would_.

"Call 911" her voice was shaky but her friends were indignant.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Derek screamed and she turned around at once, still kneeling beside Stiles but facing Derek, Allison, Scott, Kira, Aiden, Ethan and Allison's dad for the first time. "I'm trying to save him. So, please, just call 911" her eyes were glassy and widened, like the deranged person they saw; there were tears on her cheeks and her lips were trembling. Chris opened his mouth to intervene but she screamed again "just call 911!"

She turned to Stiles again and opened his mouth, hoping she'd find the mistletoe there but their luck was always so brutal; the mistletoe was nowhere to be seen, meaning that it could be anywhere in this respiratory tract. She checked his chest even though she knew it wasn't rising or falling. She took a deep breath and that allowed her to notice that Scott and Allison had kneeled next to her, they were apprehensive and they were quiet, they trusted her somehow; she needed to make sure they haven't misplaced that faith.

She placed her hands on his stomach, a little above where she thought would be his navel; her hands were sweaty and shaky but she pressed his abdomen firmly, mustering all the strength she had. The sound in her ears was louder now, his juvenile voice rambling like it would when he got nervous, asking her what was she doing in the hospital; another tear fell and it landed on his shirt as she gave the second upward thrust, hoping the boy would come to life already.

_Three, four, five, six, seven, eight_, she counted looking at his lifeless face; he was so pale and still; "Stiles, please" she muttered and she couldn't hear her own voice; the voices in her head were so loud her hearing would be damaged.

Lydia opened his mouth again because it had to work, she had to save him; His smile was so unaffected and innocent when he was little, she remembered.

Nothing, she saw nothing again. She made a strangled, exasperated noise and Scott put a hand on her arms, trying to tell her he could help. "No, I have to do it", she answered.

_My mom is sick _

She heard his voice as she put her hands on his stomach again. She pressed, again.

_And you, why are you here alone? _8-year-old Stiles asked inside her head.

"Stiles, wake up" she said quietly in the present day. She pushed and pushed his abdomen upwards. "Wake up", she commanded.

"_My parents are visiting my aunt", her 8-year-old self explained._

"_Why aren't you with them?"_

"_I don't like sick people."_

There was still no sign that Stiles was breathing and no sign of her hope coming back to life either. Lydia groaned in frustration and gave another thrust upwards, "Wake up, Stiles!" she was yelling, "Wake up!". Lydia's voice was hoarse, her eyes and nose itched and burned from holding back the waterworks she needed to shed. It had to work, she couldn't be wrong again. She was so sure again. "Wake up!" Lydia roared as she pressed his abdomen once more, "please."

_He faced his hands instead of her, Lydia didn't hear it but she remembered. She recalled the look on his face, which quickly grew devastated; it made her feel hollow inside for a moment, it was not a foreign sensation for her even by the young age of 8; but it felt so unwelcomed that day, it was so shameful._

"_I'm sorry"_

She felt hollow inside, if only she could see any look in his face at all, she would take anything but nothing. She began to wonder if she should start the CPR, how long his brain had gone without oxygen already; she wondered if he'd be undamaged even if she managed to make him breathe. But the mistletoe was in his mouth when she opened it, which meant something worked at least; she took a deep breath, allowing the sense of relief even if for one instant.

Lydia reached for the little plant she once found in her locker and took it out of Stile's mouth; she threw it on the floor and immediately put her head over his chest to feel if he was breathing.

Before Scott could ask anything, Allison could analyze the little plant or anyone could move, an ambulance was heard. Lydia was crying again when Scott took her off Stiles, all her self-control and heroism wearing out; Scott could feel the banshee shaking as he held her arms, she was weak. By smell, he could pick all sorts of confusing and soul-sucking emotions, but other things too. Scott could swear that in the middle of all that darkness, sadness and apprehension he could smell other things, brighter things…like, like hope and happiness. Thinking about this, he almost didn't catch what the paramedics said… something about taking Stiles to the hospital and exams and then the ambulance went away but why- how could they- Stiles wasn't-

Lydia seemed as lost as he did as she stood there in his arms, both still kneeling on the floor and watching the ambulance going away. Then, he heard her mumble:

"He was breathing"

**Yes, I know this was pretty crazy (or maybe not?) and there was not that much Stydia... but fear not! I'm already writing chapter 2 and it is filled with all the explanations you need and, more importantly, THE STYDIA**

**Tell me your thoughts about it? and feelings? and anything you feel like telling me?**


	2. The little rock

**This was harder to write than I though, but I hope you guys enjoy it! It might be the last chapter but I'm not sure yet (I'm open to suggestions!)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf**

It wasn't as dark as before, or as cold. There was something enfolding his body softly, making him feel well, spreading a comfortable sensation through his body; His head was resting on a foreign pillow, maybe that was why he woke up. It was odd he was able to sleep without his own pillow in the first place.

It took a while for Stiles to notice something warm on his hand, as if someone was holding it. He turned his head slowly, his neck felt rusty. There was Scott, leaning on his bed, sleeping and drooling all over his sheets, while holding his freaking hand.

"I know I called you brother but-" Stiles started, chuckling sooner than he ever thought he would, noticing his throat was considerably sore.

His friend nearly jumped at the sound of his voice and he truly hoped it was out of surprise, not fear. Scott's eyes widened and then he gave Stiles his sincerest, most relieved smile. Stiles couldn't see his own face but he assumed he was smiling too, though more broken and vulnerable than he wanted.

Scott put his arms around him, holding him so tightly Stiles was sure he forgot to turn off his werewolf abilities. Instead of complaining, or saying he missed him, or that he was sorry, he just hugged him back as tightly. They stood in silence. Stiles buried his face in Scott's shoulder not even caring that he couldn't breathe like that. He was alive; he was alive and free, Scott closed his eyes in relief. Of all the people he couldn't lose, of all people-

"I should go get my mom" he said shakily "she told me to call her if you woke up" he explained as he let go of Stiles; rubbing his eyes, trying to hide the tears.

"Wait. Tell me what happened." Stiles stopped him, his voice raspy and weaker than usual, "Did Lydia do it?"

Scott's eyebrows shot up, "How- How do you know? Do you remember anything?"

"I left her a message." he explained, while playing with the hem of his sheet. During his rare moments of consciousness, he managed to frame that Nemeton drawing and put a mistletoe leaf in her locker, wishing she'd in some way understand it all went back to the sacrifice. Stiles realized he needed to be a sacrifice again to close that freaking door inside his mind; he needed mistletoes and death. He needed someone to pull him back again, his tether. He needed _her_.

"I didn't" Stiles continued, taking a deep breath" I didn't have much time to call your or to think really, I'm sorry I-"

"It's okay" Scott interrupted, making his newly rescued friend face him "The only thing that matters is that you're safe, that all of this is over." Stiles tightened his jaw, fighting a smile he didn't deserve to feel. But Scott smiled," Besides, I wouldn't be able to save you anyway. She was the one who had to save you, right?" Stiles nodded as his friend continued "coup de foudre and all"

Stiles scrunched his eyebrows and stopped nodding, "I'm sorry, what?" he asked and then cleared his throat; what he'd give for a glass of water.

The werewolf send him his typical confused expression "I thought that's why Lydia had to save you? Wasn't that why you sent the message to her, Coup de foudre?"

"Coup the who-?" Stiles asked again, making an exaggerated "u" with his lips.

His best friend sighed "Bolt of lightning? Love at first sight? Does it ring any bells? That was why it had to be Lydia' he started whispering, "she's…you know…Love at first sight".

Stiles twitched one of his eyes before answering, "No it does not ring any bells. And I knew who Lydia was before third grade, I guess that can't be qualified as love at first sight." He finished the phrase with difficulty.

"Wha-" Scott was about to ask.

"It was me." they turned their heads to Lydia, who was suddenly at the door. She was wearing what Stiles recognized as his father's sheriff jacket over a flowery dress. Stiles opened his mouth in surprise; he didn't even know she was at the hospital, he didn't even think she would be. Lydia walked towards them slowly, barefoot and with watery green eyes.

"I.." her eyes looked out of focus like they often would" I thought you were cute when we first met." She explained nonchalantly, before pressing her lips together and looking at him.

"What?" Stiles whispered, "How- I mean wha-"

Lydia rolled her still wet eyes and put her hands on his hips "It was just a moment, okay? You don't need to look at me like that." She said hastily without even seeing said look" I just… I saw you there in the hospital, sitting and waiting with your head on your hands and I thought you looked cute and that was it. "She stared at him, waiting for his reaction and Stiles just stared back for a moment before chuckling.

"Lydia, we knew each other before that. We were on the same school for years."

"I didn't know that!" she shrieked and Stiles started full-blown laughing, "What?!" she yelled.

Scott, at this point, was just looking back and forth between the two of them." I think I'll get my mom now," he stated before leaving even though he was pretty sure his friends wouldn't hear anything but each other.

"It's just… of course Lydia Martin wouldn't notice all the plebeians." He smiled and the girl noticed he wasn't mad or frustrated, even a little bit. He knew her so well and he wasn't disappointed at her. However, she was.

She sent him a sad smile and he sensed something was wrong.

Lydia sat on his bed and looked at her hands; she fiddled with her fingers trying to forget about her burning throat and heavy conscience; trying to overlook Stiles' raspy voice and bruised neck, thanks to her. If only she had found him sooner, if she had focused before.

She would have known why she thought Stiles was at the eichen house; she would have listened to all the noises in her head and saved him before the nogitsune took over. Not to mention other things she's done to him over the years.

Killing Stiles was _the most_ terrifying experience of her life, definitely scarier than being attacked by Peter, scarier than werewolves, darachs, foxes and the noises in her head. Not because she could be hurt or damaged, not because she could die, not because she could lose her mind; it was because of Stiles, it was all because of him. Sure, she just couldn't lose anyone in her life and losing him would devastate her, break her for good. Making everyone lose him too because of her mistakes would be equally unbearable. But, Stiles, he couldn't, he just couldn't die.

Definitely not because of her, in any sense of that phrase.

She wanted to tell him she was sorry, she just needed him to know how deeply sorry she was for not saving him sooner. She just wanted him to know she wishes she had never ignored him, she wishes she hadn't taken him for granted. Too many people had done it too many times, because Stiles was always there, Stiles was always faithfully around and they forgot. How could they forget? Stiles was breakable and defenseless, Stiles was human and Stiles was _Stiles_. He could be taken away at any time and they'd be doomed without him; each one of the pack would be lost in one sense or another and Lydia, in all of them.

She rested one hand on his bed while staring at her legs. Stiles looked at her expression, her head down and furrowed forehead, wishing she'd just look at him. He hated it when Lydia got lost in her own world only to come back depressed and shattered. He didn't know why she felt so miserable but he did know she never should be.

He placed his hand on top of hers shamelessly, undoubtedly. Lydia looked at their hands in surprise, Stiles didn't say anything. He just looked at her looking at _them_. If there was one thing pure void wouldn't understand it was this, if there was one thing darkness itself wouldn't plan on defeating it was this, if there was one thing pain, strife and chaos didn't think could outfox them, it was this. _Them. _

If her relationship with Stiles had started in any other way he would have probably died, he'd be lost forever in the nogitsune's hands, but it didn't. She met him one day at the hospital, and for that split first second she saw him she felt something. There was no denying or mistaking, as short-lived as it was, it still happened. _Coup de foudre_. No chaos, strife or pain involved. It was as uncomplicated and true as a silly crush can be. It was poison to the disordered and malicious; it was venom to a trickster. The nogitsune fed of the uncertainty and agony, that's where his power came from. But he couldn't take any suffering or doubt from her once she focused on that little definite feeling.

It felt like killing a giant with a little rock but it was so obvious, why couldn't they see it before? As unimportant as that feeling could be, as forgettable as it was, nothing could corrupt it, nothing would erase it.

_The simple yet undeniable power of human love._

Stiles knew how he had to die and Lydia knew _how_ the nogitsune could die, two sides of the same coin, always. Two people who complemented each other in every possible and random way, always.

If they were any different, together or individually, in the past or in the present, Stiles would be gone. Lydia decided that was how tethers worked, that was what they meant. With three words, Lydia would save his life; without any word, Stiles would ease her pain.

Lydia caught herself smiling at their hands, overflowed by moments instead of her depressing regrets. She intertwined their fingers and looked at Stiles, who was smiling at her tenderly; he was thinking about that day too. Lydia laughed softly and looked away, feeling strangely self-conscious; he chuckled and shook his head; never letting go of each other's hands.

"_I'm sorry", she said. Lydia couldn't imagine her life without her mom, and that cute little boy looked so sad and alone; so alone._

"_Where is your dad?" she inquired nosy as ever._

"_Working" he mumbled grumpily, putting her head in his hands and still refusing to face her. It annoyed petite Lydia, noteworthy as she always was, so she decided to stop talking to the boy._

_As she was searching for her mother's lipstick (which she had __**promised**__ to let Lydia wear, if she behaved herself at the hospital), Lydia heard a scream. It wasn't like in the movies, or when her mother would find a cockroach at the living room; it was creepy and strange. It made Lydia want to scream too, but she was brave so she just grabbed the arms on the chair. It didn't stop, it would never stop. Those screams that should make her have nightmares for the rest of the week. She looked at the boy, wondering if he was okay and if she was just being a chicken._

_His eyes were blank, though. He was looking at nowhere in particular, clenching his jaw and grabbing the arm on his own chair. Doctors and nurses run to the room where that woman was and he looked at them, he was angry with them; they wouldn't let him be with her, not when he wanted to, not all the time, especially not when she was like that; screaming, kicking and hurting. _

_Lydia couldn't possibly know that, he didn't make much sense to her at that moment, but somehow she knew. When she looked at him, she knew who the woman was._

_Stiles' eyes were wet and he looked down again, Lydia grabbed his hand._

_He looked over at her in surprise then she gave him a compassionate, knowing smile. His eyes softened and he released the breath he was holding, Stiles nodded at her and they stayed like that until the screams stopped._

Lydia didn't think much about that day in the following weeks or months. There was plenty to take in and not enough time, or age. There were her parents that suddenly decided to live in different houses, crudely asking her to choose one of them; her life, which became a never-ending battlefield between her mom, her dad and herself- where to take her, what to teach her, what should she dress, who should she talk to. On the top of that, she would always be Lydia: flawless student, remarkable leader, always surrounded by beautiful and self-entitled people.

Stiles didn't forget, he never could. He had the biggest crush on her but so did other boys and Lydia wasn't interested in that back then. Besides, just because she held his hand once, it didn't mean they were friends. She had her own friends.

For too many years, Stiles was just that boy who would sometimes smile or wave at her occasionally, the weird skinny kid who sometimes stared too much. Lydia didn't mind, she was used to that, people stared and smiled at her all the time. However, things changed, as they always do.

There was too much disappointment and loneliness in her. Too many issues she never felt like dealing with, too many people who weren't there for her; too many doubts about her future and herself. Then the supernatural came into their lives and it brought him back to hers. Stiles with his devotion and his dorkiness, Stiles with his sarcasm and his childish crush on her. But Stiles wasn't a child anymore.

He didn't see a beautiful, popular girl; he didn't see a genius, or even a disturbed person as she became later; she wasn't his prize to win or a challenge to conquer, she wasn't the unreachable woman he would always dream about nor she was the little girl who held his hand. Lydia had no idea what Stiles saw in her, but he always saw too much.

Well, Lydia wasn't a child anymore either. Stiles wasn't someone she could ignore, he wasn't that weird kid who didn't belong, he wasn't the clever guy who would never shut up, she didn't put her friends before him because he was her friend; he was her best friend. And she wishes she could point out every single thing that made Stiles so indispensable in this world but there were too many; and she saw too much.

"Do you guys want me to come back later?" Melissa's voice brought them back, making them realize they've stared at each other for some time. They looked at her and released each other's hands, nervously mumbling unintelligible words until Lydia said audibly "I'll wait in the hallway."

Stiles couldn't stop staring at the open door that lead to that hallway, there was something he still needed to say to her.

Melissa put her hand on his forehead to check his temperature, "I just need to-"

"Can, can I do something first? "He interrupted her, staring at the door then looking at her. Melissa blinked twice, but nodded.

He jumped out of bed and sprinted to the hallway. "Lydia!" he called and she turned around.

Stiles did not know how she had saved him or how long she had been at the hospital, but he did know that whatever she did cost her a lot; and granted him the same. He felt his eyes water while he scratched his head. "I...I just wanted to say thank you." he looked at her, feeling ashamed. His lips were trembling and a tear rolled down his cheek. She stared back at him and something flickered in her eyes, as if a switch had turned behind them.

Maybe seeing Stiles standing there crying made everything too real and decisive for her; there he was made of skin, bones, sarcasm and openness. And there she was, just as made of skin and bones, and gratitude. Lydia could literally cry out of happiness that he was alive, and he had the audacity to cry for her, with her, to her.

She marched towards where he was, her eyes all wide and vulnerable. She stood on the tip of her toes and kissed him full on the lips. Stiles would have kept his eyes open; he would have stood still; he would have been shocked, if it wasn't so logical. She grabbed his shirt when he kissed her back, he held her waist and they deepened their kiss never minding that they were at the hospital.


End file.
